#My old man shipping goes back far

[honesttoglob]

"My statue, / Which, like a fountain with an hundred spouts, / Did run pure blood;" (2.2.81-83)

"The ides of March are come." (3.1.1)

[seungfl0wer]

Jeongin As Your Boyfriend

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Contains Smut 🩷

-🩵

•I feel like he’s very nervous, especially at first.

•Constantly checking on you making sure anything he does is ok.

•Like kissing. He’s gonna ask you if “it’s ok” to kiss you.

•Because he’s afraid of making you uncomfortable.

•When y’all get past that phase he’s still asking sometimes however he goes for it more often than not.

•He’s not super big into skin ship.

•However that does not mean he’s not ever gonna touch you of course.

•Holding hands is his favorite.

•Or wrapping his arms around you in a back hug.

•He’s not into PDA so if you try to kiss him around the others.

•He’s gonna turn bright red.

•He’s very reserved in my opinion.

•I feel like since he likes fashion so much he’d honestly like those couple outfits.

•Not the “I love my boyfriend” shirts.

•But like same color shirts and stuff just simple cute couple fits.

•Will have you in his OOTD’s especially when y’all matching.

•Absolutely loves seeing you in his clothes too.

•Ugh it just melts him. Finds it so endearing.

•Has a playlist of songs that remind him of you.

•Loves taking you to different places with him so you can experience them with him.

•Teases you of course.

•However he’s very mindful and sometimes can overthink what he says.

•He’s just afraid of hurting your feelings.

•Cuddles.

•Like I said he’s not a big touchy person however.

•When you’re sleeping he’s pulling you so close.

•Tells you all the time how it’s hard to sleep without you.

•Sings trots songs for you.

•Likes karaoke dates a lot too.

•Will definitely send you pictures of their concepts before it’s out.

•He can’t keep things from you.

•It’s really hard for him to keep secrets even if it’s something like a present or surprise.

•He just tells you everything so it’s hard for him not to tell you these exciting things.

•Clumsy.

•You joke how you need to put him in a bubble.

•Or bubble wrap the house at least.

•He loves taking pictures of you too.

•Changes his background so much cause he takes such cute pictures of you.

•No matter how long y’all date for he’s still smiling when he sees your name pop up on his phone.

•Even old and grey he’s still all giddy with you cause he loves you.

•I feel like after he lets his wall down he falls really hard.

•His love is so very genuine.

•He’s just a soft guy under those fox eyes, whose only mission is to make you smile.

•To make you happy and to feel loved and he’ll always be there to do so.

︵‿︵‿୨Smut Below୧‿︵‿︵

•Again this man’s still a bit nervous.

•He lets you take the lead a lot.

•But when he gets comfortable you’ll see the real jeongin.

•He’s very much a switch.

•Loves when you take care of him.

•Calling him your “Sweet baby” makes him go crazy.

•Whimpers so much when he’s like this.

•”I’ve been so good for you please-“

•Morning blow jobs to wake him up.

•Lazy morning sex too.

•You’re still half asleep when he’s pushing himself between your legs.

•His head in the crook of your neck whimpering how he “needs you so much”

•When you respond he’s losing it.

•Lubing you up before pushing into your sweetness.

•On the other hand he can be very aggressive.

•A lot of the times it’s when he’s stressed.

•He’ll have you face down as up as he pounds deep into you.

•Those big beautiful hands leaving hand prints on your ass.

•Loves sneaking you into the dorms.

•Telling you how you “have to stay quiet”

•Gets off on the thought of the others hearing how good he’s making you feel.

•Also those hands I mentioned?

•The way he pushes them into your sweet hole it just-

•He curls them so perfectly hitting every sweet spot.

•He knows how much you like his pretty hands.

•Teases you about how you fall apart on them.

•Aftercare is a lot for him.

•He is always concerned he hurt you or pushed you too far.

•Constant “are you ok?”

•Runs to grab you towels, snacks and drinks.

•Just wants to make sure you’re completely ok.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something

[meanbossart]

I realize this is a weirdly specific question, but what was DU Drow’s experience like first waking up on the Nautiloid/on the beach?

Like, was he wearing Bhaalist stuff when he woke up then? If he was, did he ditch it right away or did he just leave it on until he found gear in better shape or maybe just didn’t want to associate with that symbolism/organization anymore? Like what was the thought process for him there, assuming that were the case??? If he was wearing something else, what might it have been?

I ask because I finally started my first Dark Urge playthrough yesterday (YIPPEE) and am plagued with thoughts about my guy, wondering if maybe he had some Bhaalist gear on when he first fell out of the Nautiloid that slowly was switched out for other things as the story progressed. Then I was like “oh hey what about Drow??? What was going through his head when he woke up that morning on the beach??????” Especially bc I can’t imagine he had much time to look at what he was wearing on the Nautiloid while it was still flying around.

ANYWAYS. Apologies for the ramble, my brain is plagued with thoughts now that I’m finally doing a Durge run so I might come at you with more random ass questions in the future >:)))

First of all AYYYY have fun with your first durge run!!! I'm always open to more questions if they happen to pop up throughout the experience.

Now to your question: An Interesting one! Though my answer might be disappointing LOL

In my personal lore, DU drow woke up from the tank with nothing but some scrappy underwear on - hell, It would probably make more sense if he was fully nude, even, but that would make many of the companion introductions a little too awkward - so, tattered underwear it is.

Considering what Kressa had been doing to him, I imagine that she would have either removed or destroyed his clothes at some point during the experimentation. DU drow was stuck with her for at least a few weeks - so, even if she didn't promptly undress him, his outfit would have been far too slashed, cut, and caked with old blood to keep, and likely torn off so it would stop getting in the way.

Her husband (I think he's the one who ships you away, if memory serves me right) would have had little reason to send him off with dignity - BUT perhaps he slipped some briefs back onto the drow's body because he felt ashamed of the implications of his wife keeping a battered, nude man around.

So, DU drow slides out of his pod, caked with old blood with only some ill-fitting linens covering his groin. He picks up whatever sharp object he finds lying around for self defense and proceeds through the ship, barefoot, hair matted, having no idea who he is, what he looks like, or how he got here. He's completely overtaken by his self-preservation instincts and being confused is second to getting out of his situation alive. He goes along with Lae'zel because she seems to have at least some idea of what's going on, and he frees Shadowheart from her pod because she seems more trustworthy than Lae'zel.

He probably stripped the trousers off of one of the corpses lying around the beach after the actual crash (they would have been a little tight, but it's better than nothing) and god-willing was able to snatch some fresher underwear at the grove or something. The only indicatives he had of a past life were his scars, and I guess his unusual features. The thing is - whenever he first caught sight of his reflection, he very much liked what he saw looking back. Someone else might have been shocked by their appearance, but what DU drow felt would have been more akin to a kind of relief - I'm strong. I'm big. I'm intimidating. Good. As it should be.

And well... There's not much reason to give it thought past that. His looks feel right, he thinks he looks attractive, even his scars are somewhat comforting. Tadpole and odd company aside, it actually feels nice to be himself right now, so why ruin it with questions and concerns.

[mothgardens]

@tired-dragon22 ask and you shall receive :)

If you know me, no you don’t (I’m looking at u, T)

This is probably going to be a little messy and silly, but defo worth it.

To the people who think that Logan is a dominant, angry top… YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND HIM— this goes both ways because if you think that Wade is a submissive, whiny bottom you gotta be kidding.

These two characters are so complex and I am going to spend far to much time analyzing their psychosexual behavior, lets begin:

Logan, like most us know, is passed around like a blunt: Storm, Jean, Scott, Jean and Scott at the same time, Kurt, Storm, Kurt and Storm at the same time, Wade, some people ship him with Charles and Erik as well— point being, the man has some experience.

I know he wouldn’t run for one team (top or bottom), he is playing both fields. In my heart, he is a switch. But, that means he has multiple roles. To me, he is a power bottom MOST of the time, a service top, and on special occasions he can be a regular old bottom.

You have to really delve into the details of his character to see this how I do, and tbh idk if I will be able to explain it as well as I’d like.

Thinking about his character overall, he plays the “bad boy” who is mean and uncommitted, but that is not him. That is a mask to the world to hide his vulnerability.

This man is really just a soft, sad soldier. He has spent to much if his life grasping for stability and dignity. Everything he has ever done has been for some drop of control. But, he doesn’t like it.

He hates his anger, it’s exhausting. He hates fighting for everything he wants. He hates the constant tension and stress. He needs someone to take it away. Which leads me to our first role, Service Top.

He wants to serve. He wants to be told he is doing well (I will die on the hill of this mf having a praise kink). He doesn’t want to fight for control anymore. He hates having a constant guessing game; he would prefer to be told what to do. So, this is a perfect role for him. His partner has control, but he can still serve them. He can be their loyal dog. Do as they say, how they say it. He would get of to pleasing his partner. If they tell him “good job” then his heart is their’s.

I think the line between him being a power bottom or a traditional bottom is paper thin. He likes the lack of control, but he doesn’t like the guessing game. So, he gives suggestions, orders, or, primarily, bitches until his partner does what he wants. HE IS A BRAT, YOU CANNOT FIGHT ME ON THIS.

Simply, he needs to be taken care of. He takes care of so many people, he takes control of so many situations, he never catches a break. He just needs someone to gently lay him down and take the tension away.

I am foul, so one of my favorite traits about Logan is his animalistic tendencies. I believe they shine out during sex. Along the lines of him being a brat, sometimes he will just growl instead of actually bitching. Or he will whine instead of saying a word. I think he is incredibly verbal during sex, but his partner has to get him comfortable enough to quit biting back noises.

I’m not going to get into a lot of details, but just know: Logan is a bratty, feral power bottom who becomes a little mess OR he is a loyal dog service top who just wants to please.

That was my ted talk, amen.

PLEASE FEEL FREE TO ADD ON; im so happy i found the bottom logan community. He is so important to me.

(i can also make one of these about Wade)

[ichorandpride]

some morgott headcanons i have

just a list because i love this old man a lot. a mixture of both general and ship hc's

morgott nests. he has a bed but prefers nesting and has gone to great lengths to create a nest that is comfy enough for him. it's made up of furs, hides, bed sheets, blankets, even window drapes. it's not the best thing in the world but it's his and he likes it.

if, say, your tarnished is somehow able to start a relationship with him and ends up sleeping in said nest, he will actively make it bigger. just don't try to help him; despite the good intentions, you will just get in the way. you might get a tail in the face.

he doesnt move around lots in his sleep. he's a large, heavy guy that just kind of becomes a furry brick when passed out. that being said, he sleeps lightly. growing up in such horrid conditions under constant threats has him unfortunately unable to fall into a deep rest. if he does ever get into a solid sleep, it goes on for like 13 hours - his body probably overcompensating and getting what it can while it can.

he's got a rough relationship with food. he may feel stressed if at, say, a banquet and there's tons of food around. he's used to not eating a lot and as such continues to eat as little as possible. it's not because he doesnt think he deserves it. rather, he's just gone his entire life without a stable source of food and is used to it.

that said, he forages lots. my man is a scrounger. i know this mf scrounges around for mushrooms and herbs to bring back to his nest. at any given time, you can find at least a few scraps of herbs around his space. he probably eventually starts a small garden.

if he's eating something and you try to jokingly take a piece, he will growl at you. it's one of the few times he ever vocalizes like that (compared to his brother, who constantly growls and isnt afraid to snarl). his growling is deep, more from his chest than his throat, and it will be one of those rumbles you can feel.

other than growling, he can also purr. it's embarrassing and unbecoming, but if you get him relaxed enough (a feat in and of itself), he will absolutely start purring and doze off. please get him a big enough rocking chair to be able to snooze in.

he either doesnt bathe, or he bathes far too much. no in-between. it's really hard for him to be able to keep to a set schedule and so it's kind of become a thing of extremes for him. it depends on how he feels. either he feels like it doesnt matter bc he's gonna get dirty anyways and so he just doesnt for a while, or he goes through a period where he just cant get the memory of the stench of sewers out of his nose and ends up bathing like three times a day.

normally his hair and fur is wiry and kinda... 'off' looking. that's when he's in a period of bad hygiene. when he does bathe, though, his fur puffs tf out and actually gets quite soft. maybe even lighter in colour now that all his body muck is gone.

despite his occasional bouts of hygiene issues (and his own personal fears of smelling like the sewers), morgott surprisingly smells fine most of the time. maybe a bit of musk or perhaps the scent of iron and soil from his times battling, but otherwise it's not actually overwhelming or bad.

he'll never admit it but if you ever gift him some food and reassure him that it's all his, he probably spends the next several minutes just staring at it instead of eating. there is not a scrap left after he's done with it though.

[cosmerelists]

Top 10 Cosmere Fake-Outs: Ranked by How Well they Fooled Me

By "fake-outs," I mean times when the narrative tried to convince me that something had happened or was true (for example: this character is DEAD!) when in fact it was all a lie.

By necessity, THIS POST WILL CONTAIN LOTS OF MAJOR SPOILERS!

Specifically: Major spoilers for Warbreaker, Stormlight Archives, Mistborn Eras 1 and 2, and Yumi & the Nightmare Painter. I won't put character names in the titles of the entries, but if you haven't read all of those listed works, please move on!

#10: A Words of Radiance Death

In Words of Radiance, Jasnah is attacked by assassins while on board a ship with Shallan. Shallan sees Jasnah's lifeless body being stabbed, and then the ship literally goes down in flames. Jasnah has certainly died!

Yeah...I didn't buy it for even one second, to be honest. I was twiddling my thumbs waiting for the reveal that Jasnah had actually survived, because of course she did. (This is not a complaint!)

#9: A Secret Project Death

At the end of Yumi and the Nightmare Painter, Yumi dies, and it's a real fake-out. Sanderson goes so far as to have a secret, extra epilogue that isn't in the table of contents where her death is reversed. I wasn't quite as sure while reading that Yumi would survive--at least, not as sure as I was when Jasnah "died." But I was pretty sure. 

#8: A Mistborn Era 1 Death

Specifically: Kelsier. When Kelsier dies at the end of Book 1 (!), I was shocked...and suspicious. Would Sanderson really kill off a character like Kelsier in Book 1??? Well, as it turns out...yes. But also no. Because Kelsier clings to "life" as a Cognitive Shadow and is still off doing things in future books. So I still count this one as a fake-out!

#7: Another Mistborn Era 1 Death

Another character who "dies" in Mistborn Era 1 is Marsh, Kelsier's brother. They find what they think is his completely obliterated body and are like "oh no." Of course, any time there is a completely obliterated body, we as readers will be suspicious: if it's really Marsh, why no face? But I actually wasn't too very suspicious of this one because Marsh felt like a character who could die, narratively speaking. I didn't, like, drop my book out of shock when he turned back up, but I was more surprised than I had been with the others.

#6: Just An Innocent Old Man in Way of Kings

This is referring to Taravangian, who in Way of Kings is presented as a dottering old man who's well-meaning but not too bright. I'm not going to lie, I bought this one hook, line, and sinker. The villain reveal for Taravangian did take me almost completely by surprise! The impact was only lessened insofar as I wasn't that interested in Taravangian pre-reveal, so I didn't feel, like, betrayed or anything.

#5: Nice Guys in Warbreaker

I 100% believed that Denth and Tonk Fah worked for Lemex, were relatively sad about his totally natural death, and were sincerely working for Vivenna afterwards. This is in spite of the fact that the narrative was not at all shy about dropping hints that this was not true. There's the fact that we're told people with tons of breaths are strong & healthy...yet I was like, "Yeah, makes sense that Lemex died of natural causes." We see Vasher position himself against Vivenna and company, and yet I was like, "Vasher probably has his reasons but it's not like Vivenna and company are doing bad things." This one was a shock especially because I liked Denth & Tonk Fah! 

#4: Dalinar and Amaram are BFFs forever

This one runs the risk of being more of a plot twist than a fake-out...but hear me out. We're led to believe that Dalinar has finished investigating Amaram and has decided not to believe Kaladin; he and Amaram are BFFs forever and ever. Then there's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment when Dalinar is "out sick" for a week, but I for one thought nothing of that. Then it turns out that Dalinar was in fact laying a trap for Amaram, which Amaram waltzed right into, and Dalinar finally learned the truth. So I think it counts as a fake-out: I was certainly very surprised when Dalinar called Kaladin up "for an apology" and it turned out to be Amaram who needed to apologize. 

#3: Jasnah's Soulcaster

Shallan's whole plot line in Way of Kings is centered around her trying to steal Jasnah's very real and functional Soulcaster by swapping it for Shallan's broken one. Personally, it did not occur to me for even a second that Jasnah's Soulcaster also didn't work and was also a fake, so Shallan simply swapped one fake for another. In part, this was because I did not understand how any of the magic worked on Roshar at this point. But still. It definitely fooled me good.

#2: A Mistborn Era 2 Death

I will admit, it never even entered into the realm of possibility for me that Wax's old wife, Lessie, wasn't dead. We watched her die in the flashback. She was buried. She felt like just one of those fridged women and I had not even a shred of doubt that her death actually happened. I was so sure that when Bleeder literally reverted into Lessie's form and voice, I just assumed she had eaten Lessie's bones. This one really, REALLY shocked me.

#1: Mistborn Era 1: Follow the Ancient Text

But even so, I think the fake-out that most shocked me was the one at the end of Well of Ascension. Vin knew, per the very accurate ancient writings left behind by Kwaan, that she had to resist the power offered by the Well and give it up--even if that meant letting someone she loved die. This felt like such a classic climax and source of tension, that I was just waiting with baited breath hoping that Vin would give up the power. And she did. And it was a mistake. Because it turns out that if you copy down Kwaan's words--which were inscribed in metal so that they could not be altered--on to paper, then Ruin's gonna alter them and you can't trust the ancient prophecy after all. In following the "prophecy" at great personal cost, Vin was just doing what Ruin wanted anyway.

I'm still not over this one. 

[romanarose]

Joel Takes a Strap

Written for Married Joel sits on you 2024 by the amazing @beefrobeefcal !!!

Joel Miller x trans!reader

Join my taglist : Masterlist

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Summary: Joel takes a strap.... send tweet.

Warnings: sex toys, praise, body worship

Immersivity: Reader is trans and able bodied. Reader has had top surgury.

A/N: promt via Beef, must include this line "Marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed over all a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline."

A/N 2: My taglist is back!!! follow the link to join <3

Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

It was a life few people really understood. Jackson was pretty open minded, considering there were bigger things to worry about than gay shit. Still, in 2003 someone being trans was pretty much the punchline to a joke if you knew what it was at all. So, when a transman came to Jackson, it wasn't exactly the warmest welcome.

Joel would like to think he'd have always been kind and welcoming. Maybe not the friendliest guy, but still. Joel didn't care what anyone chose to do to themselves, but he thought of Ellie. He thought of how she'd been treated at the tipsy bison that night, and Dina, Joels now-daughter in-law-... he wasn't able to be a safe person for her to come out to during that time but he wanted to be safety for someone else.

He had no idea you'd become his safe place as well.

Joel wished he could have been there for Ellie to come out the way she was ready to, but then things turned around. He'd repaired their relationship in a lot of ways, and now... now she was the one he came out to when he started seeing you. The ceremony had been small, little JJ as the ringbarrer.

Marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and relation ship with Ellie improved and he seemed over all a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline.

This, however was not a drawback to you. When the world fell apart, if someone had an ounce of fat on their body, they were called obese, torn apart on the covers of grocery store magazines... but you saw Joel's weight gain as something beautiful. It meant he was safe. He was relaxed. He wasn't on the run. He was yours.

And you got a surprise for him.

You had made sue to clean it, and clean it good... but you had found a strap on while out, and were ready to use it on Joel. Joel was more inclined to top, but that didn't mean you didn't take control sometimes. He regularly takes several fingers up that cute-but-flat ass of his, and today you'd prepped him well, making sure to add lots of vasiline to the strap to ease him.

Now, Joel Miller had his legs spread across your lap as you sat on the edge of the couch, covering above your strap.

"You don't gotta do nothing you don't wanna." You reassure him.

Joel shakes his head, murmuring as he looks down. "It ain't that... I just don't wanna crush yuh, s'all."

You can't help smile at that. "You won't Joel. I love feeling you on me, l love the weight. You're fuck'n perfect."

And he smiles at that. Soft, but he smiles.

So you tease him. "Better take it now, I know Maria wants a turn for Tommy."

Joel visibly cringed at that, but laughed and the tension was gone from the room. Joel was happy, you were happy, and he had the support of his family. What everyone else thought didn't matter.

When Joel sinks down on you, feeling the weight of him push you into the couch cushions, you can't help but smile and feel his hands grip your shoulders.

"Good boy..." You praise the old man whose boyhood was far behind him. "Take my cock... just like that" If Joel was a boy, the strap is your cock. Who cares. In moments like these you can forget all the horrors of the outside world, forget reality.

"So fucking hot..." Breathy, Joel praises you back as he takes the whole strap up inside him. His hand goes to your chest, palm paying no mind to the surgery scares. "My handsome husband."

"Mmmmm... My handsome husband..."

Joel begins to move up and down, bouncing on you, his thick thighs working hard as he fucks himself. His cock slaps against your stomach. "Wanna make you cum too... how does... does that w-work?" You can see him bit his lip, pleasure filling his body.

You take his hard, leaking member in your hand, stroking him after you spit.

"Don't worry about that. We'll figure things out as he go, right now i just want you to focus on feeling good, Joel. Can you do that for me? Be my good boy and cum?"

Joel nods, a little curl falling on his forehead that is begining to sweat.

"yeah, I can do that... I can feel good... your cock feels good... I can feel good."

You love when he gets like this, lets go and lets his subby inner nature come out.

"I bet you can, Joel. I know it."

Thank you all so so much for reading!!!!

Want more trans content?

I wrote About a Girl which is Joel and tranfem reader and You'd Love me if I was a Worm, Would You Love me if I was A Man? which is reader transmasc reader coming out to santi and Big Boys Dont Cry which is trans reader AND trans santi

I hope to write a santi and trans reader series soon

How to keep up with my work?

Follow @romana-updates

ask to join my taglist

join my tumblr community

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Love you! hope to see more from Beefro's event!!!

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

By fire and heart.

Pt.3

Daemma Targaryen. Second daughter of King Viserys and queen Aemma, you're the living portrait of your mother with the character of a true dragon, as a second daughter you don't have right to the throne but certainly, you will protect your sister's succession by heart. (You are one year younger than Rhaenyra.)

Warning: Credits of this images goes to whoever they belong to! Grammatical and spelling errors, maybe this won't be good enough but In my head the story was a good one.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Pt.4 here

It's curious how a war can make you change, years have passed and you're not a little young lady in those ridiculous dresses, you're not a girl running through the castle halls anymore, you remember the day you arrived at the step stones and the smell of dirt, ashes, blood and sea salt, was something that you would remember perfectly.

Daemon was furious, he almost dragged you back to your dragon to send you back home.

- WAR IS NOT A GAME, DAEMMA! THIS IS NOT A PLAYGROUND AND IT'S NOT A PLACE FOR A LADY.

- I'M NOT HERE BECAUSE OF THAT, I'M HERE TO HELP. YOU TOLD ME TO GET STRONGER TO SUPPORT MY FAMILY, YOU ARE MY FAMILY AND I'M HERE TO SUPPORT YOU.

His anger lasted for days, but eventually he understood why you were there, it wasn't only to help, it was because you wanted to be near him, after all, he was more like a father for you than your own dad, you also as a second child understood pretty early that you would have to build your own path.

He was a proud uncle, you were fierce and strong all those hours training and practicing helped you, you're not a scared deer, you're a dragon, pure fire runs inside you, a true Targaryen warrior.

«Careful! The dragons!!!»

All the mercenaries were screaming and running to escape from the flames of Caraxes and Whitefyre.

- WHERE ARE YOU DRAHAR, COME HERE AND CONFRONT ME!

- Don't be a coward, leave the Shadows you bastard!

Fire, death and destruction surrounded you and your uncle, meanwhile your father was living his best life with his new child.

You and Rhaenyra communicate frequently, you made her a promise and even if you are so far from home you still keep that promise, you would fly home if she called you.

Your little half baby brother, Aegon, catches all your father's attention. Your sister feels lonely, but tries to keep strong, a Targaryen never shows the sorrow that grows inside.

The news of the war arrives at your father's door frequently too, but he doesn't care, he refuses to talk about the crab feeder and refuses to send ships or any kind of help, the influence of the Hightower doesn't help much either.

«they started this war by themselves, they'll have to win it by themselves»

Rhaenyra is not in her best time, she constantly argues with your father, every letter is pretty much the same.

«Our father reminded me again about my responsibilities, as if I were an idiot, lucky you that escaped from here... My apologies Daemma, I know the circumstances for you are not any better than mine, keep yourself safe, sister, i still need you at my side.»

The rest of the letter was about what she heard about the war, how she put those old fat ladies in their place, her encounter with that wild boar, about what she saw in the forest... the white stag, and the worse comes when your sister mentions you about how you and her are now in age to marital arrangements, you couldn't contain your laugh when you read that part about the Lannister man and his proposal.

-We still can win this war by ourselves! We don't need the king's help.

- Oh trust me, Princess, we need help, soon enough we will not be capable of fighting, we're less and less.

- We do not need the king, Lord Vaemond. We'll find another way.

- If you don't ask for it, I will.

- if you do it, I personally will cut your throat.

- Enough, Daemma.

A hand squeezes your shoulder and makes you step back. Your uncle appears just in time before you and Vaemond started to yell at each other as you usually do, you're brave and smart but still you don't understand many things about war, you're learning, your refusal to ask your father's help is a clear proof of it, Daemon refuses to receive help because he already knows how to win, but, for unknown reason he still doesn't decide to give the final hit.

Meanwhile Vaemond Velaryon ran like a scared little mouse and asked for help, your father after years ignoring the pleas, finally accepted and sent a letter and a float.

Early in the morning, dragons fly over the stones and the beach, smoke and ashes, you, Laenor, Corlys, Vaemond and some other men are counting and planning what to do, there's no food or resources enough, you have to find a solution.

- We're weak and that triarchy knows it! Continue sending the dragons.

Corlys looks exhausted and anxious and exasperated, observing the map over and over, he feels hopeless.

- It is useless.

You're tired of flying around without reason, it is useless, Laenor knows it too.

- Indeed, father, the archer defend the skies while the rest protect their position, when the dragons attack they hide in those caves.

- We have to make them leave the caves...

- But they don't have reasons to leave the caves.

Vaemond complains and once again Laenor talks, he has a good plan, better than continuing flying and not obtaining nothing.

- Then let's find a reason. Someone needs to risk.

- Who? Who will be crazy enough to risk is own life?

«A dragon returns!»

- Daemon.

- Daemon is the reason why we're in this position.

- At least he's doing something, he's fighting while you only complain, Lord Vaemond.

Suddenly Corlys is in the middle of you and Vaemond.

- Enough. Listen Vaemond, I will not allow a revolt.

Daemon joins the small group, he's quiet, looks the opposite of all of you, he looks relaxed, annoyed but still with a calm mind, he's observing all the men around when a new group appears at the view, a messenger.

You instantly looked at Vaemond, you were ready to stab him over and over, you know what the message brings and obviously you know what your uncle will say.

Your uncle takes the piece of paper and reads it calmly, he's pissed, truly pissed. Just when you thought he would not react negatively, he takes his helmet and starts to hit the poor messenger over and over, Laenor and you contain him.

Moments later, your uncle takes a boat and goes to the beach, the plan would be executed. He would pretend to give up, distracting everybody so the rest of you will take advantage.

He walks through the beach with a fake white flag, the crab feeder finally leaves his cave, there's no dragons in the view, mercenaries approach your uncle, while archers point at him.

Suddenly, you appear behind him, fighting side to side, mercenaries appearing out of nowhere, rain of arrows falling over you, your legs are burning, your lungs need more air, but the adrenaline increases, Daemon falls in the sand, arrows hit him and mercenaries are on the way, it's just you and him, call it whatever you want, but the bond between you and your uncle is reason enough to make Daemon stands up, he will not let those men touch you, he knows you can defend yourself but at some point you will not have strength enough, that's why he stands up, he forgets about the pain and runs to protect your back.

Drahar thinks he already won, but once all the mercenaries are out, a wave of your soldiers are running to them, a river of flames puts you and Daemon safe, your dragon, whitefyre, lands and you quickly jump on it, all the arrows are on you, nobody has seen Laenor and his dragon until it's too late, you and Laenor eliminate the archers, while the rest is fighting at the beach.

You lost your uncle, you can't see him anymore, the anxiety is taking the best of you, where's he? What if...?

Coming out of the cave, Daemon appears there's blood covering him, he is dragging a head and a half body with him. Drahar's body, it's done, it's over.

[olderthannetfic]

I’l throw my two cents into the f/f vs m/m wank fire.

I wonder if part of more m/m being written in general isn’t that certain character dynamics are more likely to remind people of mysogynistic tropes if it involves women.

I’m not sure if these are the best examples— but if the woman is the one getting dominated and the one that gets "babyfever" that seems like it invites harrasment and accusations about misoginy because authors of ye olde times reduced women to only that, and you are decidedly not safe even when all the characters are women because "how dare you write a woman uphold patriarchial standards" or something. Talking about wanting to get a cis man pregnant comes off less creepy than saying the same thing about any woman, doesn’t it?

Maybe these tropes are too niche to actually have any considerable bearing on the shipping scene at large, but it does seem to me like men just become the safer bet to explore sex with and don’t carry the fear to need to write a PhD dissertations about misoginy and sexism as a preface before writing dynamics or kinks that you like, or an explanation to why you are allowed to like that kink or dynamic.

It feels like this might extend to other marginalized or uncommon identities where certain things come with unfortunate sociohistorical (is that a word?) implications, and thus becomes much more restricted in what becomes socially acceptable to depict.

And people don’t want to risk or worry about depicting something "wrong" when they are in a space to relax, and in many cases to avoid thinking too hard about things.

More sensitive topics seem to open up more bad faith readings, which is counter productive for more text to be created about it.

Which now typing out a long explanation for seems stupid- I guess it’s a stupidly obvious conclusion to draw now that if there is a selective pressure of any kind on what gets submitted in a specific category, there will be overall less of it.

If people did feel less concious over what the worst possible reading could be of their f/f and m/f fic there’d certainly be more of it, but I don’t know if people complaining about the lack of f/f want to sacrifice the proportions of "quality" over higher statistics.

I think this might have been touched upon in some ways by other anons under "then we should encourage more het men to write f/f", just not with the exact framework I’m coming from I think.

I don’t have a good way to end this and I’m not sure if it’s worth anything (as far as these types of discourse go anyways), but this is way longer than originally intended already

--

This is a pretty standard point in "Why do women like m/m?" discussions going back decades, yeah. I'm sure this is a reason for many women just as some guys write female characters to explore things they find uncomfortable to explore via male ones.

The thing about the cyclical wank is that it boils down to m/m fans listing a bunch of reasons that make a lot of sense... at extreme length.

And then a bunch of f/f fans feeling rather attacked because nobody really wants to read a thousand pages about why their thing is unpopular.

And then someone goes "Okay, but it's weird/bad that women like slash!" and we're back to the tl;dr explanations.

[necrotic-nephilim]

ok ok but jayroytim😏

this feels especially funny if brudick happens in the background and oliver hates the fact he's now in-laws with bruce

so i have to regretfully admit i'm not really a fan of JayRoy, or at least i'm not a fan of the popular version of JayRoy. i think JayRoy could work and would be a lot of fun! but i have *zero* interest in New-52!JayRoy (or New-52!Roy in general) or rlly any version of Jason and Roy on the Outlaws together. both bc i'm a pre-Flashpoint stan at heart. usually i can stand newer content for ship fodder but for these two oh man it grinds my gears how badly Roy got fucked over-

BUT BUT. that doesn't mean i think the ship has *no* merit. because Jason and Roy *do* have some fodder in pre-Flashpoint. they meet briefly when Jason is Robin, and then again when Jason is Red Hood during that Outsiders arc where Black Lightning is in prison. so! there's definitely material to work with. especially playing into the more fucked up nature of Roy knowing Jason when he was Robin. i think it's cute if Jason had a childhood crush on Roy. and maybe Roy even thought Jason was kind of cute, a spunky kid with a lot of energy and passion. then with Jason as Red Hood, Roy openly doesn't trust him and doesn't like that they're working with him. Jason is just a run-of-the-mill villain with a nasty kill count. and sure, Roy's got a record of tangling with people more on the villain side of things, but even going near the Red Hood feels like a step too far.

adding Tim to the mix is really fun. bc honestly it gives Roy some kind of a fetish for guys who have been Robin and i find that to be delightful. like, even if Roy just sees Jason as the Red Hood, he can't *quite* let go of the image of Jason as Robin. like it just won't get out of Roy's system ever since Jason came back. i think, if i were to write these three together, i'd have Roy and Tim get together first of all people, just because Roy is trying really hard to stop thinking about Jason as Robin, especially now that Jason is older and a little meaner. he's full of guilt about it, and he can't talk to Dick because he's still not sure where Dick's feelings fall about the whole Jason thing so. he goes to Tim instead, thinking if he fucks a different Robin, maybe he'll get it out of his system. Tim's pretty and he's just old enough that it's not *too* morally questionable for Roy to seek him out. it takes a while for Roy to work up the nerves because he and Tim aren't particularly close, so how do you even approach that conversation to make it look organic. it's awkward and Tim can definitely tell something is up but hey, who's going to say no to Roy Harper offering sex? one of Dick's best friends? especially if we put this right after Kon and Bart's death where Tim is just. sort of lonely and seeking companionship. in some ways,, Roy would remind him of Kon, just a little. that sort of cocky attitude and snarky smile.

i would add Jason in by having JayTim happen alongside RoyTim. it's not like Roy and Tim are serious enough to be exclusive and Tim knows Roy is sleeping around, so Tim ends up in a weird hatefucking situation with Jason, which definitely was not supposed to happen. Jason just has a damning way of getting under Tim's skin and won't stop bothering Tim until he gets some kind of attention from Tim. and somehow Jason is interesting enough for Tim to cave. and he doesn't even think about the two relationships he's balancing until he happens to sleep with Jason after being with Roy the night before and there are still marks all over him and Jason does *not* like sharing. so when he interrogates Tim and gets nothing, he does the reasonable thing of stalking Tim to figure out who it is. and it just happens to be the guy Jason had a crush on as a kid.

i think Roy finding out he tried so hard to avoid Jason that he accidentally ended up with the same fuck buddy as Jason would be the funniest thing in the world. like it's not something he can run from anymore and he has to accept that. he tries to awkwardly ask what Tim even sees in the guy bc well, Jason's a killer and not known for being mentally stable. but he's also the guy who exonerated Black Lightning with no real motive besides just helping out. he's complicated and Roy doesn't know how to react. Tim just sort of shrugs bc how do you even explain Jason Todd and well, one thing leads to another and Tim ends up in the middle of the most emotionally charged threesome he's ever been in. love the idea of Jason and Roy using Tim as a toy while they work out their feelings for each other. to me that's the peak dynamic. Jason and Roy are pissed about liking each other and somehow, Tim got roped into things. their relationship is not healthy or normal whatsoever, but somehow, they end up balancing each other out nicely.

background BruDick is also hilarious tho. bc there is no one who hates Bruce more than Oliver and he'd be so annoyed that not only did Roy get tangled up with the Bats, but now everything is so weird their families are pretty tangled together and Oliver has to deal with Bruce a lot more than he wants to. and he's glaring daggers about it the whole time.

[thestrangestthlng]

HOLY DOUBLE FUCKING DOWN BATMAN.

"Remember, this is not me backing down or being defensive." "Remember, this is not me apologizing?"

Babes, who are you talking to? Your little fucking friends who are just as problematic as you?

"Just because you were offended doesn't mean you were right."

Be so fucking for real right now. That is not for you to decide. You don't get to determine what is offensive to someone and say they're wrong. You do not get to tell people from communities that what they were offended by wasn't offensive. You do not get to determine whether or not someone else can be offended by your actions.

"I am not the creator of gay stereotypes."

No, you are not, but that doesn't not mean that you have to continue to give them life.

"they created it themselves." Re: stereotypes about queer hookup culture.

You do realize that straight people have a hook up culture, right? We'll get to that. Do you want to know why there are so many negative stereotypes about marginalized communities? I'll tell you. It's because of white supremacy culture and the patriarchy. White people in power made sure the seeds of these negative connotations were spread far and wide. Media creates those biases and creates the stereotype. Would you say the same thing about Black women and the Mammy and Sapphire stereotype? These are stereotypes that are mocked and negatively reinforced in culture for entertainment and oppression.

"Gay men, I'm sorry... [...] my bad, I thought that because gay men can joke about it, I can too."

It's not that you can't joke about it. The fact was it wasn't fucking funny and I will explain to you exactly why. When you are joking abut a marginalized community, or a demographic that you have a position of privilege over (which you do, as a bisexual woman) you have to PUNCH UP for the joke to be funny. You punched down, which made it an attack and not a joke.

"The hook up culture exists in every sexual orientation [...] so what are you even mad for."

It absolutely does exist with every sexual orientation, WHICH IS WHY YOU COULD HAVE LEFT OUT THAT WHOLE FUCKING PARAGRAPH WHERE YOU TALKED ABOUT GAY MEN ONLY BEING ABOUT THAT THING. (And I'm sure that you're not even old enough to get that reference.)

"The word "target" was part of the fun little dialogue I imagined in my head when I was explaining Tommy pov. It wasn't meant to be taken in a fun docu-series kinda way."

Just because it's not how you intended doesn't mean that isn't how it was received. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. You mocking this just really goes to show how ignorant you are.

"I'm bisexual."

Okay, and? The same way a gay man or a lesbian can be biphobic or make biphobic statements or actions, bisexual people can have queerphobic statements or actions. I explained this to you. Internalized phobias are a think too.

"Queer people are not untouchable."

No, they aren't. You can dislike queer characters, I know I dislike PLENTY. You can just be honest with yourself and be like "I don't like him because he's in the way of my ship." You don't have to prove anything you can just say you don't like him. You don't need to justify this, you can just be honest about it.

The problem is that the rhetoric that you are spewing is homophobic in nature. And when gay men and other queer people are telling you that it's offensive, it's offensive. You were explained to in detail why what you said was offensive, reductive, and dangerous. You just don't care. Your little friends are just in your ear backing you up.

Tommy is absolutely just a character. He will never see any of this shit, but people like him, will.

If after this, you still don't understand how you, a bisexual, can be homophobic or make homophonic actions, I don't know what to tell you.

[goomyloid]

PLEASE explain your thoughts on kriselle in full detail

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS 100% UNPROMPTED ASK! I SHALL EXPLAIN

i hate toby fox. why did he do this to us. he really put it better than anyone else. not really romantic not really platonic but…. something else… some secret more sinister more heartfelt more absurd third thing

i wonder at what point should i clarify that i dont even really seek out kriselle in a romantic context… DONT GET ME WRONG i have zero issues with the ship whatsoever and all of the krisellers out there are living their best (most painful) lives and i SEE THE APPEAL. BUT when i rotate them in my brain i dont need them to kiss or anything like that i just need them to sit down and sadly hold hands and stay like that forever and ever. in case you couldnt gauge that from my art so far

tldr i dont think i ship them in the traditional sense at least …. the things that i usually fixate on for any romantic ship are not there with these two. there are no romantic feelings there In my mind. and all at the same time i start screaming and throwing up and killing myself (all positive) whenever i see them even in the same image together. hngh

ive tried explaining this to people before and they usually suggest something along the lines of a QPR and even that doesnt feel right to me. truly the best way i can put it is… that red string of fate man… which i almost hesitate on saying too because i dont actually know if noelle is Quite an important enough character to the story to warrant a connection like that. WHICH IS A CRAZY THING TO SAY. I KNOW. DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT GETTING ME WRONG i think dess and her connections to gaster and her usage as a stepping stone into the weird route are all VERY important… but in my brain its just not kris/knight/asriel/every other mysterious main focus of the story Important. i didnt mean to get into deltarune theorizing here i hope nobody’s blood is boiling rn

so yeah in the end. toby fox once again put it best. they are friends, but they are also something else.

back to the actual pairing though… sometimes i think im going overboard and overestimating how close kris and noelle were as children because noelle will go and say things like “i wonder if we were ever really friends at all.” which is kind of a fair statement considering the circumstances. sure they played together and all and tagged along with their siblings to do stuff together but when dess went missing… it all kind of stopped. kris is just a kid, they dont know what to do or even how to process it, much like noelle. asriel is probably dealing with his own feelings, he just lost his friend and likely old enough to understand the weight of what happened. while noelle and kris cant say much to each other at all.

im always back and forth on speaking headcanons for kris but the one that i always seem to come back to is selective mutism… to me kris had a lot of trouble communicating well as a child and could only grow comfortable around certain people, asriel and noelle being clear examples because they’re both so patient with them. maybe because of this noelle felt like they could understand each other without really needing words, and just physical interaction was enough to achieve some form of closeness… or maybe that was all just on her end, she thinks when kris goes to play the piano. but if that’s the case, why does it feel like a concert just for her…?

jesus dont even get me start on them as teenagers either. noelle has lost her sister, and now kris has lost their brother… but not in the same way. they look at each other and wonder if they’re the same now. or, maybe thats too cruel. maybe its not the same thing at all. asriel’s coming back soon, after all. it will all be over soon, kris won’t have to feel this way for much longer, right? so then, why does kris look so miserable, sitting in the corner over there? all noelle feels like she can do is sit next to them quietly. to be there, and to somehow, vaguely, messily help each other. the misfit kids that dont really know how to talk to each other and yet understand each other regardless

thats why the dark world feels like such a dream to her. these crazy city lights, fantastical creatures, susie’s there, and she actually might have the means to defend herself and stand her ground, whether it be verbally or… otherwise

and most of all, much like with kris offering an adventurous haven to susie in ch1, the same is extended to noelle. by kris’s side, no less. it feels like theyre doing things together again, and its fun, and nostalgic… she wants to bring dess. and i think its okay to assume kris wants to bring asriel, too. recreating the make-believe world they lost so long ago… is it really possible?

no… how can it really be possible, when this isnt kris? something is wrong. its almost perfect, except kris… it’s them, but it’s not. she sees their face, their expressions, their laughs, their worries. and yet the voice that comes from them… isnt them. and it scares her! even if nothing particularly bad happened as a result. and if something bad DID happen, well…

she just wants what they had before back. is it really so impossible? can they reconcile after all these years? does kris want to? is kris capable of doing so? maybe they just need to hug again. will it feel like a real hug? the person she thought she understood is acting in ways she doesnt understand. they’re telling her to do weird things. they cycle through actions as if they just want to know what happens. and they cant even play piano anymore.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Floyd, Kalim: The Way of Water

I was wondering how the artwork would frame the sitting boys, but I guess having Floyd floating there on his butt is fine fjeviwgxkwjwhfoen I don’t know what the alternative would be…

It's nice to learn more about the land boot camp the Octatrio went to; Floyd's vignettes indicate that merpeople need passports and that they went to a zoo as part of the program.

A Tale as Old as Time.

Museums could be such snore fests sometimes. Sure, the place had an entire section dedicated to merpeople history, but it was nothing compared to what the Atlantica Memorial Museum boasted under the sea: the Mermaid Princess's silver comb, a replica of the Sea Witch's cauldron, bones of a sea dragon, a statue of the Sea King...

Here? All they had were some crummy paintings.

Floyd tilted his head back, taking in merman arriving in a dolphin-drawn chariot. He was an older man that sported bushy brows and a grand white beard that flowed in the water, his physique muscular and imposing. There was a regal presence about him, perhaps in how upright he stood, or in the glisten of the crown upon his head or the gauntlets cuffing his wrists. With his trident in hand, it was clear who he was.

The ruler of all the oceans. The waves obeyed his every whim, the sea and all its spoils bowing to his power. He, the Sea King.

Meh, what’s so great about him? So stiff and uptight. It’s be so much better workin’ for the Sea Witch.

Floyd's eyes flickered to the boy next to him, who seemed far more interested in the painting than he was. A steady grin crept onto his face, and he leaned in close.

Floyd pounced, hooking a long arm around Kalim's shoulder and yanking him over. The eel peered down at him, a single golden orb colliding with a pair of garnets. Leering, Floyd jerked his head at the depiction of the Sea King.

"Ne, ne, Otter-chan. What'cha think of this one?"

Any sane person might have been paralyzed with fear encountering Floyd in a dimly lit room, but not Kalim. No, Kalim was not sane at all.

The dorm leader greeted his peer with a smile so wide it could fill the horizon. "Floyd!! I'm so excited I get to see more of your history."

He blinked. "You actually like studying this kinda thing? Are you even any good at it?"

"Nope, not really!!" Kalim confessed (perhaps a little too easily). "I was looking at this painting and going, 'His beard's so impressive!' It reminds me of the one my dad has. I won't remember all the details later, but I'll always remember how cool the Sea King looks."

"It goes in one ear and out the other. Why bother then? Just dedicate your time and energy to stuff that actually interests ya."

"But it does interest me. It's fun learning about where your classmates come from! I heard humans and merpeople weren't always on good terms."

"Yeah. Back when the Sea King still ruled, there were tooons of rules forbidding merpeople from coming into contact with humans." Floyd held up a finger for each one he counted off. "No going to the surface world, no owning human stuff, no exploring shipwrecks... even no music at one point. You'd think Goldfishy wrote the lawbook."

Of course, even if those rules were in place, he would still totally disregard them. No one—not royalty, not his parents—could stop Floyd from venturing into the unknown.

"Whoa, the Sea King sounds like he was super strict and scary! I don't think I could live without music..." Kalim's face dropped. "He looks like such a nice person in the painting though."

Floyd rolled his eyes. "Cuz he lost his wife to a human ship. After that, he got all paranoid, thinking himans and merpeople are too different to coexist. He got especially protective over his daughters. The Sea King had seven of 'm and he breathed down all of their necks.”

"Ooooh!" Kalim didn't even bat an eye at the number (Floyd was sure it paled next to the number of siblings he had running around in his home.) "So the Sea King just wanted to protect his loved ones and make sure nothing sad like that ever happened again. He's a good guy after all!"

He now regarded Floyd with eager, sparkling eyes. "Wow, you know so much about this!! It's crazy thinking about how different things were in the past."

"Duh. It'd be boring if things stayed the same all the time." The eel smirked. He let go of Kalim and stepped back, giving a playful twirl, arms stretching out above him. "Ehehehe! Good thing the Mermaid Princess ended up opening doors for us to come onto land~"

Kalim beamed. "That's right!! She did! We wouldn’t be able to be friends without the Mermaid Princess’s help.”

The word gave Floyd pause, a rock tossed along his path as he brought his foot down upon it, snagging his step. Friend. He didn’t like spoken in that saccharine, trusting tone.

It was sticky and sweet, stuck in his teeth. Like cotton candy residue yet to be washed away by the waves, or sweat accumulated from summer heat. A gross feeling.

“You’re bein’ way too generous with your definitions again,” Floyd groaned, peeling away. “Cut it out, or I’ll get annoyed.”

Kalim (unwisely) laughed. Not at Floyd, but with him. “Oh, hey. When you think about it, we’re not really that different.”

“Mmm? What are you saying now, Otter-chan? Did all the sunbathing finally melt your brain?”

“In the Scalding Sands, waterways are really important. We use them for trade and travel. It’s the same for the Coral Sea. With all that water, it’s convenient for those sorts of things.” Kalim said matter-of-factly. “We’re using those same waterways now. We’re connected by water.”

“A good part of Twisted Wonderland is water,” Floyd pointed out. “You sayin’ everyone can be friends with everyone?”

Kalim nodded eagerly. “The Sea King was probably wrong. Humans and merpeople are actually very similar. I think the Mermaid Princess knew that too, and she wanted to help others recognize it.”

Floyd stared at Kalim, the moment long and hard. He wasn’t irritated anymore, only a little disappointed. Maybe mildly disgusted. “… Otter-chan, you’re so happy it hurts.”

“Thanks!”

“That wasn’t a compliment.” Floyd sighed. The energy and fight had been rapidly drained from in over the course of the short exchange, leaving him as wilted as a salted slug. “Aaaah, whatever. I’m tired of this already. I’m bailing.”

He turned on his heel and made for the exit and into the adjacent room. Already, Floyd could see a platinum frame of the Sorcerer of the Sand in the distance, bony fingers clasping a golden scarab.

“Wait up, I’m come with!” Kalim called after him. “I can teach you about my country’s history too!

That was how water was—always seeking to follow the flow. One body leading straight into another.

Floyd picked up his pace, arms pumping. (No running in the museum? Screw the rules.) Adrenaline deposited into his bloodstream, and he was hit with a rush.

Suddenly excited again, maybe a little interested in what a certain otter had to offer. A game, a chase, a thrill.

This is what he had come to the surface for.

Not rules or restrictions or a royal bossing him about. Not even friendship, as Kalim had suggested. Just fun, plain and simple.

It looked like he was going to get it.

Floyd grinned and shouted back, “Catch me if you can then!!”

And hurled right into the next room over.

Bless the Mermaid Princess.

[puer-aurea]

Divine Intervention (Mouthwashing AU)

Part 1 | Part 2 (You are here) ive decided to call this au Divine Intervention cz i think it sounds cool and is sorta fitting? it wont be mentioned anywhere in the fic cz it doesnt happen but their rescue takes place the day before everyone dies in game. so she saved them at the last second basically

After a brief introduction to the rest of the crew, Arabella is led to the med-bay to meet the previous captain. Anya and Jimmy accompany her while Daisuke and Swansea pack some things. The old captain looks their way and seems to freak out a little when he sees the new person.

"It's okay, Curly... She's here to help." Anya walks up to the man.

He looks near death, hardly alive enough to be called a man. If it didn't feel wrong from a medically moral standpoint, Arabella would've considered him a walking corpse in her head. But he was alive enough to move, make noise, and hurt, so he was alive enough to be saved. Jimmy stays by the doorway while she walks towards the old captain and the nurse.

"Hello, Captain Curly-"

"He is no longer captain." Jimmy interrupts angrily, like the one thing he has is being taken from him.

"Well, Jimmy, I'm afraid neither are you-" she turns to face him- "since your crew agreed to board my ship and be rescued, whoever was captain, legally or acting, is absolved of their duties. From now until we land, you are all patients under the care of No Boundaries Search and Rescue team member Arabella Inara. Which is me, if you can't tell."

She waits for Jimmy to respond if he decides to. He looks like he's trying to be intimidating. When he figures all eyes have been on him for long enough, he mutters a 'whatever' and walks away. "I didn't think he would just leave? He's distrusting but doesn't seem to care enough to ensure I can be trusted." Arabella states.

"He is... not a very good man." Anya explains quietly.

The half dead captain struggles and groans on the table, seemingly freaking out again. The girls turn their attention back to him and Arabella pulls a small med-kit out of her suit pocket. She places it on a nearby table before pulling out a vial and a syringe. The sight makes Anya and the dying captain panic slightly.

"W-what are you doing?" Anya stands in front of him defensively.

Arabella gives a confused look before realizing she didn't explain her intent.

"Oh, don't worry more than you need to. It's morphine to put Captain Curly to sleep while we move him to my ship and get everything situated. I figured it would be easier on both us and him. Since you would technically be his leading caregiver as the Pony Express nurse, you can decide if I should give him it or not."

Anya looks nervously at the syringe and Arabella. She thinks for a moment before sighing and relaxing, moving out of the way.

"Go ahead..." She hangs her head low as if she's admitting defeat. "Okay Captain Curly, if you can accept this shot gracefully, then when we get you on my ship and you wake up, I will have a proper conversation about my plans to get you all home. Well, about as proper of a conversation as we can." Arabella stands over him with the syringe, waiting.

After a moment of no indication of a response, the captain simply turns his head to the side and up a little, as if he was offering his neck. Actually, he was offering his neck. A silent agreement to Arabella's words. She places the syringe up to his neck and pushes it in as gently as possible. He fidgets slightly from the pain but remains mostly calm. When it's in far enough, she pushes down so the morphine goes in and removes it as carefully as she put it in. It was fast acting and the old captain was unresponsive quick enough for Arabella to store the syringe in vial back in the med-kit before the rest of the crew approached.

"Are you all ready to go then?" Arabella asks.

"More than ready! I'm so homesick!" Daisuke responds in a cheery tone.

"Great, if one of you could carry Captain Curly to the loading area then almost everything is good to go. I'll help Anya get her stuff and take whatever is still of use from here. Can never have too much medical supplies." Arabella gives the order to no one in particular but Jimmy still scoffs and does it as if he was the one who was asked.

The crew, minus Anya, headed off to the loading area while Arabella and her worked on gathering whatever supplies weren't ruined. When they seemed to be far enough out of earshot, Arabella abruptly stopped.

"Where is your cockpit?"

[eowynstwin]

I know it’s been done to death but here’s my 2 cents about Star Wars Old Republic era 141 (featuring Los Vaqueros)—Republic Faction/Light Side

Price is a Jedi master who everyone is staunchly pretending isn’t flirting with the dark side. As the war with the empire goes on, his methods edge toward the ruthless, too often using the ends to justify the means. However he has a reputation for getting things done, with a failure rate so low that certain deficiencies of his character are often excused in favor of his effectiveness in the field. It should be noted that Price himself is a fierce enemy of the Sith, and would never truly cross the line; his code of ethics is too strong.

Gaz is Price’s Jedi padawan whom he has slowly been “corrupting” (according to Jedi traditionalists anyway). Charismatic and shrewd, Gaz has a knack for diplomacy, which is why he was apprenticed to Price in the first place, with the hope that the master might learn as much from his padawan as he had to teach him. There are elements within the order that are reluctant, however, to elevate Gaz into knighthood; whispers suggest that he is far too agreeable with Price’s methods of getting things done, and given a full Jedi’s responsibilities, could veer even further toward the dark side than anyone would be comfortable with.

Soap is a scoundrel. At least, that’s the reputation he’s very happy to have. The truth is, he’s a smuggler for the Republic, moving supplies, intel, and sometimes even people to and fro across enemy lines. Soap is personable, unserious, always the first to buy a round of drinks at the cantina and always the most attentive listener to the local gossip. You can’t help but trust him—in fact, it’s almost…uncanny, how trustworthy he is. Get friendly enough with him and he’ll tell you the miraculous story of surviving a point blank blaster shot straight through the head; he calls it luck. And maybe it was. But his almost magical ability to guess at enemy movements and alter plans on the fly seems a bit more than lucky.

Ghost is a trooper. Has been all his life. After the death of his entire family—thanks to his father’s betrayal to Imperial forces—Ghost lied about his age and enlisted in the Republic’s army. Everyone knows that when you have an impossible mission to carry out, one that must succeed at all costs, you send Ghost. He has an almost casual disregard for his own life that makes him one of the most effective soldiers in the field, and more often than not he is paired up with Price for some of the most daring operations carried out within the full scope of the war. Rumor has it, he’s killed a Sith Lord with a rifle shot to the back. No one is brave enough to contest it.

Alejandro is a privateer for the Republic. Captaining the ship the Vaquero, he and his crew engage in some of the most exciting battles in contested space, defending vital supply stations, escorting troops, and seizing victory from the jaws of defeat too many times to count. His is a motley crew of seasoned if somewhat eccentric professionals who would lay down their lives, each and every one, if Alejo asked it of them. Rare is the captain who inspires such loyalty; rarer is the man who actually deserves it. Alejandro is that man. He has a fabled past that is often gossiped about but never discussed—some say he’s the runaway son of a Republic politician, determined to make his fortune on his own. Whether it’s true or not, everyone can agree: Alejo fears nothing, and seizes life in both hands at every opportunity.

Rudy is Alejandro’s first mate, and almost certainly the reason the Vaquero is still on one piece. He is a tempering influence upon Alejo’s passion, and an excellent liaison between captain and crew. Of humble origins from the outer rim of Republic space, Rudy worked hard to get where he is now, and means to see that the crew of the Vaquero get to enjoy their victories for a long time to come. Everyone knows you can go to Rudy to find a sympathetic ear for any problem; many swear he has the patience of a Jedi for dealing with everything he does. He just smiles, a twinkle in his eye, and goes about his business. He’s grateful for where he is, and quietly determined to defend his captain and crew with his life.

Valeria is a Sith Lord and nemesis to Alejandro and the Vaquero. Price has also crossed paths with her more than once, and if not for their opposing loyalties they might actually respect each other. She has a network of spies that some say stretch all the way to Coruscant, and is slowly making herself indispensable to the war effort in the Imperial core. Some say she has eyes on the throne itself; she would scoff at the notion. Valeria understands power better than any Darth on the Dark Council, and knows it’s far better to be needed than it is to be the one in need.

[ginnsbaker]

Maybe You Were The Ocean

Summary: Wanda was... an open-ended chapter in your life.

Word count: 6.3k+ | Tags: Heavy Angst, Character Death, Bittersweet ending

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Requested by @gingiesworld:

Y/N and Wanda have been together for a while and Pietro calls Y/N one night, needing a lift home from a friends party. On that night they get hit by another drunk driver and Pietro dies on impact. As time goes on and the other driver is arrested, y/n still blames themselves for Pietro's death. Even though Wanda continuously tries to tell them otherwise but they won't listen. They then yell at her "why don't you blame me? You should hate me for your brother dying." Before walking out. Can be either a happy or sad ending buddy. Whichever you decide

Author's note: I changed some minor details in the request, hope you don't mind Gingie. Thank you for this gut-wrenching monster, it allowed me to practice writing in past tense (so out of my comfort zone lol). Title is from "black flies" by ben howard, listen to that as well when you read ;)

Masterlist

-

Now

You haven't been to something like this in what seems like ages.

That something being a wedding.

And if you were to keep count, you'd realize you've been to more funerals than weddings in your lifetime so far.

Your best friend looks like a goddess in her white dress—and anyone with eyes can see that the groom is the luckiest man on earth.

You’re fixing your hair in front of the mirror when she approaches, wearing a smile that you’ve never seen on her, a smile you’d never be able to put on her lips yourself. It’s a smile reserved for him—that lucky bastard.

She gently taps on your shoulder. “You’re going to make me cry if you keep looking so stunning,” she teases, her voice light with laughter.

You chuckle, your eyes meeting hers in the mirror. “It's your day, and nothing can overshadow how beautiful you look.”

“Promise me something,” she says suddenly, her bright eyes locking onto yours.

“Anything,” you reply without hesitation.

“Promise me that you won’t stop looking for this kind of happiness. Promise me you'll find someone who puts that same smile on your face,” she whispers.

Your throat tightens, words caught somewhere between heartache and hope. “I promise.”

Then

You were eight years old when you moved to a new neighborhood.

At that age, it felt like the scariest thing that had ever happened to you. Your parents divorced, your mother got full custody, and once the judge made that call, she packed up everything familiar and moved you to a new state: New Jersey.

It was what she could manage back then. This place was nothing like the spacious suburbs you remembered, and your new apartment building seemed no bigger than your old living room back in California. The place had just one bedroom, and it was hard to tell where the dining area stopped and the kitchen started.

You resented her in the way a child might, not fully grasping responsibility or consequences. You were upset she took you away from your friends and the comfort of your old life. You didn’t see back then the bruises hidden beneath her shirt, the ones your father left. You only learned about them when you turned eighteen. By then, your resentment had faded long ago.

A week after moving into that aged building, you encountered the twins next door, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff. Initially, you met Pietro when his mother sent him over with some food to welcome you and your mom to the neighborhood. It wasn't until you and Pietro became inseparable friends, spending every possible moment together, that you met Wanda.

When you did meet her, you weren't fond of her. She seemed aloof and mostly kept to herself. Unlike her expressive brother, Wanda seldom voiced her thoughts, making conversations with her feel uninspiring. 

You and Pietro often clashed with Wanda over the television. You both wanted to play video games while Wanda preferred her sitcoms. Pietro would let Wanda watch her shows briefly before forcefully switching channels just to annoy her. Eventually, Wanda would retreat to her room in tears, and Pietro would steel himself for a reprimand when their mother returned home.

You would give Wanda a piece of chocolate because you felt bad, but you never asked Pietro to stop, fearing he might stop being your best friend. In return, Wanda would lend you her pocketbooks you’d never quite finish.

You hadn't realized it back then, but that dynamic would continue well into your teen years. With Pietro stirring up trouble left and right, you being caught in the middle, and Wanda, from a distance, observing you with cautious interest—perhaps wishing it had been her who brought the welcoming food instead of her brother.

Now

The wedding isn’t going to start for another hour. There have been delays due to the weather.

With the archways and open corridors adorned with blooming flowers and drapes, the venue looks nothing short of magical, even with the looming clouds. From where you stand, you extend your arm, letting the light drizzle kiss your skin. Each droplet feels like nature's way of playing with the day's emotions—adding both melancholy and charm.

Someone nearby remarks, “You know it's considered good luck when it rains on one's wedding day.”

You merely smile politely in response.

“Are you a friend of the bride’s or the groom's?”

“The bride,” you reply.

“Oh, fantastic! Maybe you can convince her to finally see she’s way out of his league!”

You shake your head at the joke. It’s not even the first time you've heard it today.

Then

It wasn't until you were fifteen and Pietro, seventeen, that the troubles you found yourselves in became more serious. 

It had also been a few months since Pietro introduced you to drugs other than weed. At first, it was just an occasional joint passed around at a party or behind the school building. But Pietro wanted to try riskier substances. You weren't as keen but didn't want to be left behind by your best friend.

One evening, after trying something a bit harder than usual, you and Pietro were wandering the streets, laughing way too loud. In his intoxicated state, Pietro suddenly swung at a parked car with his bat, smashing it. Almost immediately, patrol lights shone bright, and stern police voices could be heard from almost everywhere. Pietro got cornered, but sheer panic made you bolt. Ditching your best friend felt terrible, but the terrifying thought of jail—especially knowing the mess it'd be for your already stretched-thin mom—made you keep running.

Still shaken, you made your way to Pietro's apartment, knowing you had to be the one to tell his mother. Her reaction was a storm of emotions—anger, fear, desperation. She demanded you stay with Wanda while she went to confront the nightmare at the police station.

“I think I'll just head home,” you murmured to Wanda, not wanting to impose any further.

She glanced at you, her eyes searching. “Have you had dinner?”

You hesitated, then lied. “Yeah, I ate earlier.” The truth was your mom had been away for work for three days, and the fridge was almost bare. 

The small home you came to know felt overwhelmingly spacious as you sat alone, burdened by the guilt of having left your best friend behind. But mere minutes after sinking into your worn-out couch, a knock came at your door. Opening it, you found Wanda, a bowl of steaming paprikash in her hands and a soft smile on her lips.

“I thought you might be hungry,” she said.

Your face lit up in relief at the sight of the food, more grateful than you could express. Just as you were about to thank her, your stomach betrayed you with an embarrassingly loud growl. Wanda let out a genuine laugh, and for a brief moment, you felt like a burden had been lifted.

“Guess I was right,” she teased, handing you the bowl.

As you eagerly began eating, Wanda settled opposite you, her expression growing serious again. “What were you two even thinking tonight?” she asked softly.

Swallowing, you sighed, “I tried to stop him, Wanda. But I couldn't talk him out of it.” 

Wanda looked down, her fingers playing with a loose thread on the couch. “I don't blame you,” she finally said, her voice gentle, “I never do. In fact, I sometimes wonder how much worse he might've been without you around.”

A moment of silence hung between the two of you before Wanda whispered, more to herself than to you, “I'm so worried about next year.”

Curiously, you looked up from your food, "What do you mean?"

“Pietro's turning eighteen. He was supposed to get a baseball scholarship, but with this run in with the police, that’s probably hanging in the balance now…” she trailed off.

Your heart sank. You had known Pietro had big dreams tied to that scholarship, dreams that now seemed to be teetering on the brink. "And what about you, Wanda? What's your plan?"

Wanda took a deep breath, and her face lit up slightly, “I got accepted into Columbia. It's amazing, really. But…” She sighed, looking down, “Even with the scholarship they offered, I can't afford it. Plus, with everything going on, I think I need to be here, help Mom out, you know?”

“That's tough,” you whispered, feeling a pang of sadness for the bright future she might be putting on hold.

She nodded, “I'm thinking of starting work and maybe attending community college for a bit. It's not Columbia, but it's something.”

“That's... that's just unfair,” you whispered, setting down your bowl, your appetite momentarily forgotten. “If there's anyone who deserves to be at Columbia, Wanda, it's you.”

Wanda looked up, her eyes filled with something you didn’t recognize.

“I wish things were different,” you continued. “I've always thought of you as one of the most intelligent people I know. And not just smart, but kind... genuinely kind.”

She took in your words, the distance between you two closing slightly. “Thank you,” she murmured, her gaze never leaving yours.

Then, with a flash of resolve, she inched closer. “There's something I want to do,” she began, her voice a whisper. “Something I've wanted for a long time, but it never seemed right. I don't think there'll be another perfect moment, another chance. Not after tonight.”

Before you could process her words, she was leaning in, the space between you disappearing. Your eyelids dropped, and for a heartbeat, everything else melted away as her lips met yours.

For the longest time, nothing made sense to you. That was, until Wanda Maximoff kissed you.

Now

Your best friend's walk down the aisle feels like the longest part of the ceremony–at least to you. The sight is so magical that time seems to stand still. When you snap back to reality, the priest is asking if there's anyone in the crowd who wishes to object to the marriage.

Nobody breaks the silence which lasts a mere two seconds. It's a rarity these days for anyone to object. They only happen now in movies. Modern weddings are more intimate, almost closed-door affairs. The guest list is meticulously curated, ensuring anyone with a complex history with the bride or groom remains absent.

You watch the ceremony unfold, every word, every shared glance, making you feel more trapped by the promise you made earlier. You'd promised to chase that very kind of happiness, the kind that was unfolding right in front of you. Yet as you watch, there's this nagging feeling at the back of your mind, asking if you ever really will.

What they have feels like a world apart from where you're seated. 

You try to be genuinely happy for your best friend, and on many levels, you are. But you–you’re the last person to believe you deserve even a fraction of such a miracle.

Then

The kiss, as Wanda had promised, never happened again.

At least not for the duration they remained neighbors. Soon after, she and Pietro moved to another town for their studies. As for you, you and your mother also moved shortly after their departure, to a nicer neighborhood that’s closer to Manhattan where you also transferred schools.

For five years, you didn't see either of them. No calls. Nothing on social media. But that didn't stop them from occasionally drifting into your thoughts. Especially that memory of your first kiss.

That was until one night, while dining alone in a midscale Soho restaurant, you looked up to find Wanda as your server.

She wore a simple black uniform that most servers donned, but she carried it with an elegance that made her stand out. For a moment, you thought she didn't recognize you, as she professionally presented the menu and described the evening's specials without missing a beat. But then, as she was turning to leave your table, she paused and looked directly into your eyes.

“It's been a long time,” she said, her voice becoming more familiar as she shed her professional facade.

You nodded, struggling to find the right words. “Yeah, it really has. I didn't expect to see you here.”

She smiled, a little sadly. “Life takes us to unexpected places sometimes. I... well, I needed a job while I finish my degree.”

You both chatted briefly, catching up on lost time, but Wanda was called away to attend to other patrons. As she bustled about, you found it difficult to focus on your meal, your gaze repeatedly drawn to her fluid movements around the room.  Every so often, your eyes would meet, and she'd offer a fleeting smile, a touch of color rising to her cheeks.

After a while, you signaled for the check. Wanda was quick to bring it over, her fingers brushing against yours as she handed it to you.

“How's Pietro?” you asked tentatively.

Wanda hesitated, her eyes betraying her composure. “He was released from prison about a month ago,” she began, taking a deep breath. “It was tough, but he's doing better now. Trying to change, you know? And he... he misses you.”

Baseball never happened for him. College too. You wished you hadn’t lost your connection together. Perhaps you could have made a difference.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured. “Life just... took over.”

Wanda nodded with understanding, but remained silent.

As you prepared to leave, Wanda slipped a note along with your bill. It read, “It was good to see you again. Maybe we shouldn't wait another five years?”

Beneath these words, Wanda had also written down her phone number.

-

You waited a total of three days to call Wanda.

Wanda was... an open-ended chapter in your life. It wasn’t that you hadn’t been with other women since she stole your first kiss, but she remained a persistent afterthought in every relationship of yours that ended. 

It didn't help that you'd left a bookmark in her chapter, aware that revisiting it had the potential to alter the trajectory of everything.

The line rang twice before a familiar voice answered, “Hello?”

“Hey, it's me,” you hesitated for a moment, wondering if she would recognize your voice after all these years, “From the restaurant, the other night?”

There was a brief pause, then her tone softened, “I hoped you'd call.”

You were grinning so hard that it didn’t occur to you that you hadn’t responded to her in a while when she gently teased, “Took you long enough.”

“Three days isn’t that long,” you defended with a slight chuckle.

“Well, in the grand scheme of things, no. But in the context of us? It felt like an eternity,” she admitted.

And it truly felt that way. Finding Wanda over the past several years hadn't been impossible or even especially hard. Yet, both of you had consciously let things drift. You had navigated through college, and Wanda, well, she'd been engaged in whatever endeavors she had pursued.

But that night, it felt right to call her. And you hadn’t realized you were waiting to find her again.

You and Wanda scheduled to meet some time during the week and the conversation should’ve ended there. But neither of you wanted to hang up, and Wanda quickly asked about your college experience and the new neighborhood you'd settled into after their departure. By the time you both ended the call, nearly two hours had passed, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

It was evident; the bookmark you'd placed hadn't lost its page and it was easy to ease once more into its pages.

Now

The sun has set when the newly-wedded couple finally arrives at the reception.

You're seated at a table filled with strangers, but your best friend made sure to place you next to a woman she's been raving about—one she's suggested more than once you should date.

Her name is Natasha and she’s gorgeous beyond words. She's so striking that you find yourself wondering if she's even your type. Typically, you've steered clear of people who seem universally more attractive than you, a defense mechanism to sidestep lingering insecurities from over the years.

But as she leans into your personal space, you can’t help but respond to every question and laugh at every joke she throws your way.

Maybe it’s safe to let yourself enjoy this, even just for tonight.

Then

It was scarcely two weeks since that encounter with Wanda at the restaurant, and there you were, in her bed.

It was cramped and the air conditioning kept failing many times during the day. 

But you didn’t care. 

You had known this woman for almost your entire life, and you'd waited just as long to be in her bed like this: with your arm growing numb under her weight, her head resting on your chest, and your nose buried in her hair.

She stirred slightly, her fingers tracing patterns on your chest. “Did you ever think...?” she began, voice hesitant.

“Think what?” you prompted, adjusting slightly so you could see her face.

“That we'd end up here, like this?” she whispered, her eyes searching yours.

You smiled, thinking back. “I don't know if I let myself think about it. But I hoped.”

She chuckled softly, her breath warm against your skin. “I had a feeling you'd say that.”

The sheets beneath you were thin and had seen better days, but it didn't matter. The world outside, with its faint hum of city life, seemed so far away. Yet, the world outside seemed irrelevant. All that mattered was the rhythm of her breathing syncing with yours and the warmth of her body next to you.

Every so often, she'd shift, mumbling half-formed sentences that would make you chuckle.

“Is the penguin wearing a bowtie?” she murmured in her half-asleep state.

You laughed softly. “What penguin?”

“The one in my dream,” she mumbled, snuggling closer to you. “He's quite the gentleman.”

“Sounds like a classy penguin,” you teased.

She smiled faintly, her eyes still closed. “He reminds me of you, in a way.”

“Oh? So, I'm a penguin now?” you quipped, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“In the best way,” she whispered, pulling you closer. “My dapper penguin.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Only you would dream of something like that.”

“And only you,” she murmured, lips against your chest, “Would be there in that dream with me.”

-

While Wanda seamlessly reintegrated into your life, with Pietro, however, things weren't as straightforward. His past, speckled with run-ins with the law and a battle against addiction, made you and Wanda wary of him, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You could tell he was on the mend though, especially when six months into your relationship with Wanda, Pietro was able to hold a job for that same duration. Yet, his living situation with Wanda was far from ideal. Their apartment was snug, to say the least. His room was barely big enough to fit his bed. 

You wished you could help, but with college expenses looming over you, your hands were tied. The thought of asking Wanda to move in with you played on your mind constantly. It seemed like the ideal solution: she would have a more stable environment, and Pietro could fully occupy the apartment, giving him some semblance of independence.

“What do you think about moving in with me? I know it's soon, but…” you asked her one night in the quiet confines of your dorm room.

“I don’t think I’m allowed to live here with you,” Wanda said, a bit amused at your suggestion.

“I didn’t mean here,” you replied. “I meant finding an apartment for the two of us.”

“That’s just adding more expenses, Y/N. I can’t let you do that when you can stay here without any costs,” Wanda countered.

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. “It's not about the money, Wands. It's about... us. Having a place of our own. And it would also give Pietro the whole apartment.”

Wanda's eyes met yours, searching for a hidden meaning. “Are you saying that because of Pietro? You think he's a burden?”

You quickly shook your head. “No, no, it's not that. I just... I see how much you worry about him.”

Your fingers found hers, lacing together as you both sat on the edge of your bed. “I get it,” you began, exhaling softly, “But I thought about Pietro too. He’d have the apartment all to himself. More space, more independence.”

Wanda's eyebrows knit together in concern. “And what if he…” she hesitated, searching for the right words, “Relapses or needs me?”

You tightened your grip around her hand. “We wouldn't be too far, Wanda. And maybe giving him that space and trust will help him more than you think.”

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I know you're thinking of what's best for all of us, but Pietro's situation has always been so... fragile.”

Wanda looked at you, her eyes filled with emotion. “I'll think about it,” she whispered.

“Take your time,” you replied, pressing a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Whatever you decide, I'm with you every step of the way.”

“Promise me,” Wanda said, her eyes hardening, like she’s on the verge of tears or something worse. “Promise you’ll be with me always.”

You leaned in, brushing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Always.”

Now

“It’s not everyday you find the person you’ll be spending the rest of your life with.”

Short and sweet, but that's your whole speech, cliches and all.

“I never thought I'd see the day,” you start, nodding towards the newlyweds with a smirk. “But hey, miracles happen.” You raise your champagne glass. “To two people who finally figured it out. Cheers.”

Your best friend laughs, rolling her eyes affectionately at you. “Trust you to keep things real,” she murmurs, clinking her glass with yours.

And that’s when you see her, amongst the cheering crowds.

In the middle of all the people, she stands out. Always has. It doesn't matter where or when, you can always spot her. Your heart skips a beat, just like it always does. It's like everyone else fades a bit, and she's the only one in focus.

Wanda Maximoff. 

Pristine in a scarlet trumpet gown, her hair pulled into a tight, strict bun. A few stray tendrils of hair have escaped the bun, framing her face in a way that gives her an almost ethereal quality.

As you take a moment to really look at her, you notice the fine details. The way the light catches the small diamond earrings she wears, making them shimmer just so. The delicate curve of her collarbone, revealed by the gown's off-the-shoulder design. And her eyes—always her captivating eyes–that hold an entire galaxy, scanning the room until they land on you.

The shock in her eyes mirrors yours, and for a moment, everything else blurs. Your legs wobble, threatening to give way beneath you. The room's atmosphere grows thick, or perhaps you're just struggling to catch your breath.

Beside you, the bride and your best friend, Maria, notices your sudden change in demeanor and follows your gaze to its source. 

“Are you okay?” she asks.

You manage a shaky head shake in response, pushing through the crowd to escape the room. But you can hear Maria, not too far behind, calling after you.

Then

“So, Maria,” Wanda began once your friend had left and it was just the two of you in the cafe. You had been so keen for the two of them to meet. But with Maria spending a whole semester in Germany as an exchange student, their only prior meeting had been a brief video call that interrupted one of your dates with Wanda.

“How did you two get so close?”

“Did I never tell you about that?”

Wanda shook her head, taking a sip from her now lukewarm cappuccino.

“Freshman year. We were looking for this book and it only had one copy in the school library, and believe it or not, we reached for it at the same time,” you recounted with a wistful smile.

Wanda's face shifted ever so slightly, a change you didn't quite catch.

“We both really needed it badly, so we promised to take turns using it, and we ended up studying together for weeks.”

“That sounds like something out of a movie,” Wanda mused, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.

“It kind of felt like that,” you admitted, laughing softly. “From bickering about who would get the book on Mondays to sharing our notes and coffee breaks. Before we knew it, we were inseparable.”

Wanda hummed, her eyes flitting restlessly around you.

“What is it?”

Wanda shrugged. “Nothing.”

You frowned slightly, knowing her well enough to see past her facade. “Wands, come on,” you coaxed. “Talk to me.”

She looked away for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “It's just... it's hard sometimes, hearing about these memories you shared with someone else, when I wish I had been there with you.”

“Wanda,” you began gently, “There are moments in your past that I wasn't a part of. But what matters is now. Right here, with you.”

She sighed, her posture deflating a little. “I know. It's silly, isn't it? To be jealous of a close friend of yours.”

“If it makes you feel this way, then it's valid, no matter how silly you think it might be,” you assured her.

She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. “Growing up, our worlds were confined to that same apartment building. The people, the routines, everything was predictable. And now... being out in the world, seeing you connect with others, it's just... intimidating. And, honestly, a little scary.”

You paused, smirking a bit. “You know,” you began, but Wanda cut in, “What?”

“It's just...Do you even know how happy you make me?” you said, a bit sheepishly.

She looked like she was about to say something, but you quickly added, “Seriously, Wands.”

Wanda blinked, clearly taken aback. “You have this strange way of turning things around,” she said with a soft chuckle, her face turning a shade pinker.

“Because I love you.”

Neither of you had said it up until now. And it’s quickly evident that it was the right thing to say, at the right moment.

She took a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting with her cup. “You always jump in headfirst, don't you?” Then, looking up into your eyes, she added softly, “I love you too.”

You grinned, feeling a weight lifted. “Took you long enough.”

Now

The grand ballroom doors open with a soft whoosh, the muted melodies of a string quartet drifting into the cool night. You step out quickly, breathing in deep gulps of fresh air, your heart pounding against your ribcage. Memories of Wanda Maximoff, which you've tried hard to keep buried, surge to the forefront of your mind.

Maria, noticing your abrupt exit, quickly follows you out. “Hey,” she calls out softly, her heels clicking on the stone path as she reaches you. “Are you okay?”

“Why is she here?” you exclaim, the pitch of your voice inching towards a sharp octave.

Maria gently grabs your arm, offering solace. “I had no idea she'd be here. I promise. She must be someone’s plus one.”

You swallow hard, trying to steady your suddenly spinning surroundings.

“Y/N?”

“I'm okay, Maria,” you say, forcing a weak smile. “Sorry about this. It's your wedding, and you shouldn't be out here with me. Go back, enjoy your day.”

She looks conflicted, torn between staying by your side and going back to her new spouse and guests.

After a moment, Maria steps forward, enveloping you in a tight hug. “Promise me you'll be okay?”

You nod, hugging her back. “That’s too many promises in one day. But yeah, I’ll be okay.”

It’s just Wanda, you tell yourself.

Just the girl who could always bring out that special smile in you—the same one Maria had when she said, “I do.”

Then

The call came unexpectedly in the middle of the night.

You and Wanda had been dozing in her room for a few hours, following a particularly exhausting fight that concluded with even more exhausting—and mind-blowing—make-up sex.

“Hello?”

“Y/N!” You instantly recognized Pietro’s voice. “Hey, listen, can you pick me up? I'm at a bar,” Pietro said, his voice tinged with guilt and slight slurring. “I... I swear I didn't do anything. I got promoted to store manager and I treated a few colleagues to celebrate. I'm a bit tipsy so I... I'm sorry to bother you.”

There was a pause, and you ran a hand through your hair, exchanging a glance with Wanda who now sat up with a worried look.

“Which bar?” you asked, trying to keep yourself calm.

“Mike’s Tavern,” he mumbled, sounding embarrassed.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your keys from the nightstand. “Alright, I'm on my way. Stay put.”

Wanda frowned, her gaze conflicted. “I want to come with you,” she said, her brows furrowing together in concern and sleepiness.

“You should stay,” you said, sliding into your jeans. “It's a bit of a drive to New Jersey. You've had a long day, and you need to rest. I'll handle this.”

She bit her lip, torn, but finally nodded. “Please be safe. Call me if anything happens, okay?”

“I will,” you said, leaning down to give her a brief kiss on the forehead before making your way out.

-

You didn't call Wanda on your way back from New Jersey, but not because nothing occurred.

Rather, something did happen, and you weren't conscious enough to make the call.

-

You and Pietro made it to the hospital.

Wanda was an emotional wreck, grappling with the challenge of dividing her attention between her brother in ICU and you being wheeled into a separate ward.

An hour later, she didn't need to decide any longer.

Pietro Maximoff's time of death was called just as you started regaining consciousness.

-

The days following Pietro's death were a blur. You'd wake up, immediately feeling the weight of the world pressing down, your every moment drenched in guilt in the form of alcohol and, sometimes, your own vomit. 

Though you weren't close to Pietro anymore, he was slowly turning his life around. And while a drunk truck driver caused the accident, your own haste to get back to Wanda made you reckless. 

That choice haunted you daily.

That choice made you believe that Wanda hated you in secret.

You began avoiding Wanda, her presence a haunting reminder of the brother she lost and, in a twisted way, the brother you felt responsible for losing. The relationship you cultivated turned into something that only existed as a label. Otherwise, it didn’t exist at all. It faded, just like the gash on your face that you acquired from the accident.

Nights blurred into days, and sometimes, it was hard to tell which was which. Friends would find you in bars or on the rooftops, looking worse for wear, lost in your thoughts. Yes, Wanda grieved, but she was also lost without you by her side. She yearned for your comfort, your grounding presence; instead, all she got was your voicemail.

The breaking point came on an evening when she didn’t hear from you for two weeks. On a hunch, she decided to visit your dorm room. The last thing she expected was to find Maria there. While the situation was innocent enough, to Wanda's overwhelmed and grieving heart, it felt like a betrayal. Maria, sensing the rising tension, made a hasty exit, leaving the two of you alone.

Wanda's eyes glittered with rage and sadness. “Is this it?” she demanded. “Is this how we handle grief? You shut me out and bring her in?” 

You looked away, the walls you had put up to protect yourself now seeming like a prison. “It's not about Maria,” you murmured, your voice empty, almost lifeless.

Wanda's red-rimmed eyes searched yours, looking for a glimmer of the person she loved. “Then what is it? Why do you keep pushing me away?”

“Why don't you blame me?” you suddenly screamed, tears blurring your vision. “You should hate me for your brother dying!”

For a few moments, there was a deafening silence, interrupted only by your quiet sobs.

Wanda's hands cupped your face, forcing you to meet her eyes. “I've never blamed you. Not once.”

You remained quiet, refusing to let Wanda lift your chin from your chest.

Wanda continued, “Life is a series of 'what ifs' and 'maybes'. You can't control everything. And neither can I. We both lost him, Y/N. I don’t need more loss by losing you too.”

“Maybe you already have,” you whispered, finally looking into her eyes.

Wanda's voice cracked, “You can't be serious. What are you saying?”

You felt drained, worn out. “I don't know how to be us anymore, Wanda.”

She looked devastated. “So you're just walking away? Because we're hurting?”

You just wanted to be able to breathe again. You just wanted all of the pain to end, even if it meant letting her go.

Wanda's face crumpled, her voice rising. “So, that's it? You're just giving up?”

You could barely muster the strength to speak. "I just think... maybe it's easier this way."

“Easier for whom?” Wanda yelled, unable to hold everything back any longer. “I don't need easy, Y/N. I need you. But if you're so set on this, then be honest with me.”

You took a deep breath, your throat tight. “I think we need space, Wanda. A break.”

For a moment, it looked like Wanda might collapse. She took a step back, her gaze cold and hard. “You think a break will fix this? Fine. But don't expect me to be here waiting when you come around.” 

Without another word, she turned on her heel and left.

The last image of Wanda Maximoff etched into your mind as you closed her chapter.

Now

You half-expect her to seek you out after you left the reception. So, when the familiar scent of Wanda’s perfume wafts over, you keep your back turned, taking a long drag from your cigarette rather than acknowledging her arrival.

“Can I bum one?” she asks, her voice softer than the last time you heard it.

You hand her a cigarette without a word, watching her closely as she lights it. Her fingers, slender and pale, bring the cigarette to her lips, and she takes a long drag, exhaling with a sigh.

She looks so different, yet so achingly familiar.

Her hair is red—a detail you missed earlier. But now, standing this close to her, you can pick out everything that’s changed about her.

And you hate how good you are at doing just that.

For a few minutes, both of you stand in silence, letting the smoke swirl around in patterns before it gets carried away by the wind.

Wanda breaks the silence. “It's been a while.”

“Did you know it was Maria’s wedding?” you ask, finally gathering the courage to look at her.

She hesitates, exhaling a plume of smoke before admitting, “Yes, I did. But explaining to Steve our... complicated history and why I'd refuse to be his plus one seemed harder than just going with it.”

“Steve?”

She looks down, taking a moment before murmuring, “Steve’s my fiancé.”

Your eyes instinctively flit to her left hand, landing on the glimmering diamond ring. It's large and hard to miss, and you almost want to laugh that you hadn’t noticed before.

There’s a long pause between you both before you find your voice. “Congratulations, Wanda.” And to your own surprise, you genuinely mean it. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, an action you still find so endearing after all these years. But you’re not supposed to find anything about her endearing anymore. They’re not supposed to make your heart race. They’re not supposed to make you feel light-headed with desire.

It hits you painfully just how possible it is to stand mere inches from someone, yet feel oceans apart.

Wanda takes a deep breath, releasing it shakily. 

“You know,” Wanda says, her voice soft, “I never really got to apologize for how things ended between us.” She shakes her head slowly, tears forming in her eyes. “I was angry, hurt... lost. And when you tried to come back, I was already seeing someone else. By that time–”

“–so much has happened and I’ve hurt you too much,” you finish for her, a pained smile on your lips. “I’m sorry too.”

Wanda's breath hitches, and for a moment, she's transported back to your dorm room. She's spent a long time wondering what might have happened if she had stayed. But that choice belongs to a different timeline, a version of her that might have been braver than she feels now.

You pause, glancing at your hands before meeting her eyes. “Are you happy, Wanda?” A part of you hopes she's found happiness, yet another selfish part wishes she hasn't—because if she hasn't, maybe there's still a space for you in her life.

Wanda meets your gaze, her eyes shining with a clarity you hadn't seen in years. “I am happy,” she confirms softly.

The unexpected rush of emotion tightens your throat, and your eyes mist over. But you fight it, forcing a big smile that wrinkles the corners of your eyes. 

“That's great, Wanda,” you say. Your heart aches a bit, thinking how happiness can feel like a double-edged sword.

Reading your expression, she asks, “What about you? Are you happy?”

You promised Maria you won’t stop looking for the kind of happiness that brings people together. 

So, now you hang onto the hope of that promise. 

“Getting there,” you answer, the corners of your mouth lifting ever so slightly, “I will be.”